What Goes Bump In The Night
by Windblown.child
Summary: Carol is banished from the prison, but there are those who wonder if she didn't actually leave.
1. Chapter 1

Anything recognizable is the property of the appropriate owners. I do not make any claim to ownership, nor do I make any money from this.

Note: I have not seen past Season 4, Episode 9: After.

* * *

Carol watched Rick drive away feeling oddly hollow. She wasn't sure what she had expected him to do when she had confessed to killing the two sickest of the group. Maybe she had thought he would understand why she had done it. After all, hadn't he been forced to make similarly difficult choices since the turn for the good of the group. The grey haired woman refused to believe the tall man's words however, there was at least one person at the prison who would be genuinely upset that she didn't return with their leader and the medicine. And she knew she couldn't just leave him alone, so she took the supplies Rick had left her and found a car, her direction already chosen.

* * *

Daryl simply couldn't process what the former sheriff was telling him. How could Carol not come back? She had been a constant since the very beginning, flitting around the edges of the group like he had, but she had somehow managed to intertwine herself seamlessly until she was the very backbone of their community. He had envied her that ability, not even realizing she had drawn him in with her until most people looked to him as some kind of lieutenant, second only to Rick. The gray haired woman was practically family to every single one of the survivors, even the newest Woodbury refuges and there was no way she had just accepted the banishment and left.

He skulked away from the bustle of the prison like a wounded animal, into the warren of tunnels where the sounds of life didn't reach. The crushing pain in his chest was foreign and the hunter tried to ignore it, but as he wandered the hallways, he finally admitted that despite all of his efforts, he had gotten attached. Once he accepted that Carol had held a special place in his heart, the regret crawled up his spine like some kind of iron monkey hanging a crushing weight off his back. He should have known he would run out of time to work up the courage to respond to her teasing. Should have believed that she was actually flirting with him rather than just treating him like everyone else. And even if he had been shot down, at least he would have tried. Now it was just too late.

Being alone out there was a death sentence, he knew that better than most. It didn't matter how strong someone was, or how capable they were, in the end it came down to luck just as much as skill. Eventually that would run out, even for her despite the way they had joked about her having nine lives like a cat. Suddenly the hunter realized where his feet had taken him. There was the door behind which he had found Carol, exhausted and dehydrated, but still blessedly alive. He pulled open the heavy iron door and looked at the tiny solitary confinement cell. She had been claustrophobic before the end of the world and sitting alone in the small room without even a gleam of light, just waiting to die had to have been torture. And to think he had believed he had gotten the short end of the deal.

The hunter knew he should have said something to her after he thought he had lost her that time. That should have been enough of a wake-up call, but he had been the coward Merle had always accused him of being, unwilling to risk damaging the only real friendship he had ever had. Rage bubbled up from under the stunned numbness. She would have been better off dying in this room because he would have done the right thing and ended her. Now it was inevitable that she would turn and become one of the walking dead with no one around to stop her.

He knew the thought of turning and hurting someone was one of her greatest fears after Ed was no longer a concern and Sophia was past worrying about. Unable to keep the fury inside him, Daryl screamed and ripped into the thin mattress with his bare hands, throwing stuffing and shredded sheets to the floor before looking for anything else to destroy, but the room was barren. As quickly as he had started, he stopped, shoulders slumped in defeat. None of it mattered any more. All of them were a part of the walking dead, they just didn't know it yet.

Hours after he had disappeared, Daryl wandered back into the inhabited sections of the prison. No one met his eyes, either too sick to recognize him or obviously having heard the news and he sneered at nothing. It had occurred to him to go after the older woman, but the chances of finding her were slim to none after the number of hours that had already passed. Besides, he couldn't leave the prison undefended and without a hunter. The good of the many and all that.

The bowman snorted to himself. Knowing Carol, that was exactly why she had offed the two sick ones. She had probably thought to end the sickness before it spread, and save them the agony of dying slowly. Hell, they might even have asked her to do it. Not that it mattered, they wouldn't have survived long enough to get the medicine anyways. But that didn't stop the sour roiling in his stomach that he knew was grief exacerbated by the inability to do anything, compounded by his own emotional stuntedness. He just hoped that Rick stayed out of his way until he had a chance to come to terms.

Daryl threw himself down on the bottom bunk of the cell he had shared with the gray haired woman, already missing all the small things about sharing a space with her. The way her scent filled the room just as effectively as her quiet humming, and the effortless warmth she brought to the cell. He had never really considered anywhere to be home, not since his ma had died, but now that Carol was gone, the rough man realized just how comfortable she had made him. His skin crawled with pent up energy and he almost wished the Governor would show up so he could take his frustration out on something. Maybe he would take an extra watch or walk the fence to keep the walkers down. But before he could heave himself out of the bed, exhaustion pulled him down into a fitful sleep.

Uninterested in listening to everyone complain when there was no hot breakfast, Daryl scooped up his crossbow and bag and went hunting. He was no fit company for people and he might as well bring back what meat he could seeing as how Maggie couldn't cook venison without burning half of it. However, he was distracted. Just the thought of seeing Rick Holier-Than-Thou Grimes put him in a murderous mood. Every tree, bush, and bird call reminded him of the trips he had taken Carol along on, teaching her what he could about moving quietly and reading a trail and navigating without landmarks. The hunter had even considered teaching her how to use the bow, until he realized he would have to correct her posture and that meant getting a lot closer than he was usually comfortable with. A hundred what-ifs convinced him it was a terrible idea and how that was one less tool she would be familiar with to survive with now. Daryl figured he might as well have signed her death warrant himself.

Still unwilling to return to the prison, Daryl roasted a rabbit over a small fire for his supper and just existed. The forest was good for that at least. He didn't have to worry about interpersonal interactions, or rules, or anything else. Open air and trees had always made him feel just a little bit cleaner inside, even when he knew he never actually would be. Daryl stared out into the night, listening for anything drawn by his fire, wondering if Carol had made it out of town or if she had already been killed. Neither option really appealed to the bowman so he just stared at the small fire, trying to keep his mind silent even as it twisted and cried out for the older woman.

* * *

Author's commentary: I was deeply disappointed in how Daryl reacted to Carol's banishment in the show, so I guess I've got a lot of different ideas on how it could go. At the very least, Daryl would have been a hell of a lot more upset at Rick than the show displayed. It was like she didn't even matter to him at all and that's a dirty lie.


	2. Chapter 2

Anything recognizable is the property of the appropriate owners. I do not make any claim to ownership, nor do I make any money from this.

Note: I have not seen past Season 4, Episode 9: After.

* * *

Daryl finally drug a fat buck out of the woods the next morning, leaving it in the kitchen for the cooking crew to turn into meals without speaking to anyone, and no one bothered to talk to him either. He went about his routine of cleaning the crossbow in the cell, before volunteering for watch in the tower. Maggie was grateful for the extra hours at Glenn's bedside after their close call, but she couldn't meet his eyes as she thanked the hunter. She knew it weren't right what Rick did, but words wouldn't make it any easier to bear so she didn't waste them. As he stood in the tower, staring down on their little world, Daryl felt empty, like some piece of him was missing, and he couldn't help worrying at the gaping hole like licking at the spot where a tooth had been lost. His Carol, who had never really been his, and never would be.

Once relieved by Carl, the hunter skulked to his cell, he had warred with himself all afternoon about what to do with Carol's possessions. He had never really been attached to things, but he knew she kept a little box of treasures on the single shelf in their room. Part of him wanted to just burn everything, but when he couldn't find the box in its usual spot, he figured it was for the best. Daryl knew he wouldn't have been able to destroy what little he had left of her, so he carefully folded the clothes left on her bunk and made her bed. His own clothes went wherever was convenient, uncaring that his space was hardly usable in the mess, but Carol's things were kept neat and orderly as if she would show up at any moment.

He didn't realize he had made an inadvertent shrine to the older woman until he set a pretty piece of pink quartz on her shelf, knowing she would have liked it. Somehow, the feather he had brought back the day before was missing. Daryl tore apart the small room looking for the feather, but never found it. However, he did notice that a couple of Carol's shirts had gone missing. The hunter was ready to stab whoever had come into his space and taken her things, likely assuming they were free game since Carol was gone. A noise on the other side of the sheet distracted him from the thoughts of what he would do to the interloper but before he could do more than turn around, the curtain was drawn back and a curvaceous brunette entered.

"Oh I hoped you were back." She smiled broadly.

Damn, Vickie. Daryl's mouth twisted into a thin frown. The woman had been a pain in his ass since arriving from Woodbury. "Whatchu want?" He snapped.

"I wanted to thank you properly for the deer, dear." She tittered at her own joke as she took a step closer, making him tense. "I have big plans for your meat."

What the actual fuck. Daryl forced himself not to draw back from her advance. He had absolutely no clue what to say as he had never given her any sign that he was interested, yet she constantly threw herself at him. "That all? I'm tired." It wasn't the best answer, but all he wanted was for her to get out of his space.

"Oh honey," She purred in what he assumed was supposed to be a seductive voice. "How about a shower first? You look like you're a dirty boy."

Talk about cliche, Daryl's eyes hardened. "Not with you. Now get out."

Vickie tried to step forward again but stopped suddenly when the hunter twitched his crossbow higher, not threatening, but as a physical barrier between them. "You don't know what you're missing." She purred again, tracing a long nailed finger over her bottom lip. "See you around."

Finally she left the small room, but Daryl didn't relax. As the curtain settled back in place, he realized she had a feather tucked behind her ear. The same one he had brought back for Carol, before he remembered she wasn't there any more. He was livid, to put it mildly. If the skank thought she could get a free ride off him and steal Carol's things, she was sorely mistaken. He quickly packed up his and Carol's few belongings in a spare bag and left the cell. There was absolutely no reason for him to stick around and take her flirtatious harassment and sticky fingers. As far as he was concerned, he belonged to the silver haired woman as much as she had belonged to him. Hell, he had moved in with her after finding Vickie lounging in his bed on his perch just a day after she arrived at the prison. Not that there was anything really wrong with the woman, he just was not interested in the slightest, especially after she failed to get the hint.

Daryl finally felt like he could breathe again when he got where he was going. Still within the prison, he knew no one else ever came down into the tunnels unless they could help it and there were dozens, if not hundreds of rooms he could hide in. It would take Vickie months to suss out where he had gone. Maybe then she would figure out he didn't want to touch her with a 10 foot pole. Soon his new accommodations were laid out as comfortably as he could make them and he really was exhausted. As he fell asleep on the single bunk, Daryl didn't even realize that the mattress had been replaced in the solitary cell where he had once thought Carol had died.

* * *

Author's Commentary: I must be doing something right when I annoy myself with Vickie. Everyone knows that one chick that just won't get a hint. Things will start livening up here soon though.


	3. Chapter 3

Anything recognizable is the property of the appropriate owners. I do not make any claim to ownership, nor do I make any money from this.

Note: I have not seen past Season 4, Episode 9: After.

* * *

Things slowly began to return to normal in the prison. The sick people got better after receiving several doses of the medicine, and the kitchen started to get along more smoothly without Carol's direction, though the laundry continued to suffer. Dirty clothes plied up and once cleaned, nothing seemed to be returned where it was supposed to, unlike when Carol knew exactly where each article belonged. Daryl noticed, however, that his clothes always seemed to appear back in his new cell in solitary, scrubbed and patched as needed. If not for knowing how much Vickie avoided laundry like the plague, he might have suspected she had found his room. One of the times he finally worked up the nerve to ask Beth about the laundry, the hunter had paused outside of the common area upon hearing Vickie's grating voice.

"And just yesterday he left a half a chocolate bar on my pillow."

Several other feminine voices all made cooing noises and a girl he didn't recognize spoke up. "You're so lucky, Daryl is handsome in a scruffy way, and he definitely knows how to handle himself."

The hunter spun away back into the tombs, thoroughly confused. Vickie obviously thought he had left her a present, but he didn't know when the last time he had even seen chocolate was, let alone given any to her. Either someone else was trying to woo the annoying woman, or she was making up stories to impress the others. Either way, it made his skin crawl.

* * *

Another morning, the hunter slipped through the prison to the kitchen where he found Beth trying to juggle Judith and the coffee as Maggie stirred a large pot of oatmeal. Daryl peeked into the room just as the blond girl looked up. "Vickie ain't around, is she?" He cringed that he actually had to ask such a thing but Maggie just smiled wickedly.

"You're safe Daryl, she couldn't help with breakfast because of some intestinal crisis." The dark haired woman looked like she was ready to burst at the seems with glee.

"What'd you do?" He asked, wondering how Glenn could handle such a spicy woman sometimes.

"Oh I didn't do anything. I just noticed she was going on about the chocolate you left her the same day the bar of laxative went missing from Dad's bag."

He couldn't stop the corners of his mouth turning up as he pictured ickie-Vickie chowing down on what she thought was a romantic gesture only to have it backfire spectacularly. If it weren't Maggie, someone else out there had a wicked sense of justice. "Don't look at me, I didn't do it."

Beth piped up now that the coffee was brewing. "Don't worry, we both know you aren't the chocolate giving type." She didn't mean it unkindly, just an honest observation.

The two sisters shared a quick glance that caught his attention. "What is it?" He prompted and slid conspiratorially closer.

"It's nothing really." Beth turned back to the coffee and fussed one handed with the mugs.

But Maggie didn't know when to keep her mouth shut sometimes. "If anyone'd believe us, it'd be him."

"About what?" Curiosity could be a dangerous thing, but if they had figured out why he was avoiding the insistent brunette, maybe they had noticed some of the oddities he had.

"I think the prison is haunted." The blond girl blushed at her outburst, well aware of how silly it sounded. But considering they were surrounded by zombies, maybe ghosts weren't such a far stretch.

"Don't be a goose," Maggie let a glob of oatmeal fall back into the pot. "There's just been some weird things is all."

"Like what?" He squinted between the sisters, well aware that they could just be having him on.

"Well, Vickie couldn't help with dinner last night because she had nothing to wear." Maggie shrugged. "Sounds like all the seams let go in her clothes and someone stole her shoelaces."

Unconvinced, the older man just crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow waiting for something good from the blond. "And I was the first one up but there was coffee already made yesterday."

"Maybe someone made some in the middle of the night." He explained.

"I asked, and no one was up, and it was made just like Carol used to." Beth dropped her eyes as she realized she had brought up a taboo subject around Daryl and quickly tried to give more evidence. "And I found a tube of teething gel in Jude's diaper bag that I knew wasn't there before."

For his part, he didn't react to the name, but it made him wonder as he fingered the neat stitches on the thigh of his pants. If he didn't know better, he would have thought the grey haired woman had done the patching. "Someone has been sewing my clothes and putting them away."

Maggie perked up. "I thought no one knew where you were hiding."

"Me too." He muttered distractedly. Even with zombies banging down their doors, he couldn't get behind the thought of Carol being a benevolent ghost haunting the group that had abandoned her.

A door banging near the kitchen made all three jump and Daryl's lip wrinkled up as he recognized Vickie's voice. Maggie snapped a hand towel at him harmlessly. "Go on, we'll hold her off."

He wasn't one to be told when to get gone twice so he snagged a stale granola bar and exited the prison, mulling over when he had gleaned from the two young women. At least he wasn't worried he was going mad the way Rick had when Lori died. Grimes had heard voices sure, but he never mentioned her ghost moving things around and no one else had a list of unexplained events at the time. Maybe he wasn't entirely wrong when the fine hairs on the back of his neck had stood on end, and the feeling of being watched had crawled up his spine as he crept through the pitch black hallways to solitary. Then again, if anyone could have survived to make it back to the prison, it would be her.

* * *

Author's Commentary: The show makes it seem like the Governor's attack is a matter of a day or two after Carol's abandonment. I obviously didn't go that route, preferring to let Daryl stew for a while. Any guesses on who's been moving things about?


	4. Chapter 4

Anything recognizable is the property of the appropriate owners. I do not make any claim to ownership, nor do I make any money from this.

Note: I have not seen past Season 4, Episode 9: After.

* * *

That night, Daryl kept to his usual routine, bedding down on the single cot, but he didn't let himself sleep. He held his eyes closed in the darkness, using every other sense he had to keep watch as he feigned sleep. As hours passed, he wondered if he actually was going a little mad with Carol's loss, imagining things that weren't really there, but then an almost imperceptible sound came from the hallway. More a feeling that made goosebumps spring up on his bare arms than anything his ears picked up. Someone was looking in the little window in the door, he was sure of it. The hunter debated flicking on the little flashlight he had concealed in the blankets, but that would scare them off and ruin what night sight he had. Instead, as the feeling of being watched passed away, Daryl silently pulled away his blanket and crept to the door.

It seemed to take an age to open the heavy door wide enough for him to pass through without the hinges screeching bloody murder and he thought he had lost his observer in the dark. A moment later there was the sound of a wisp of cloth on concrete down the corridor and he moved quickly and silently, bow at the ready but he was sure it wasn't a walker. Daryl tracked the faint sounds through the tunnels until he was sure they were closer to the fallen back fences than he had ever gone. Finally the sounds stopped at a heavy door sitting ajar and the hunter slipped inside.

"Carol? I know you're here." He whispered, blocking the door should she try to sneak out again.

For a long time everything was still and Daryl wondered just how crazy he was, chasing noises in the dark. But when he was just about convinced of his madness, a light flared up in the middle of the room. It was a battery powered lantern on the lowest setting but it still dazzled him and he raised his bow instinctively, trying to peer through his burning eyes until he adjusted to the light. As the small interviewing room came into focus, Daryl searched for the older woman in the shadows, relief flooding through him as he recognized her shape.

"How'd you find me?" Carol finally asked, her voice rough as if she hadn't used it in weeks.

"Beth an' Maggie thought the prison was haunted, but I figured what ghost in her right mind would waste time patchin' my pants." Daryl spoke softly, as if to a spooked animal as he lowered his crossbow and took a couple of steps towards her.

Her shape didn't move away in the dark and he let his feet close the distance between them. "I missed you." He breathed and he set the bow on the table next to the lantern. "I knew you wouldn't let Rick drive you off."

Carol's face finally came into view in the dim light, scrunched up with her bottom lip caught between her teeth in indecision. The hunter was finally within arms reach and he didn't hesitate to pull her to him, crushing her narrow frame against him, desperate to feel for himself that she really was alive and unharmed. She was stiff for a moment before sagging against his chest, twining her arms around his waist and clinging just as tightly. Daryl let himself indulge in the warm scent of her where his nose was pressed into her hair, the curve of her ear tickling his lips. And before he had given himself permission, the younger man pulled away just enough to turn her face up and press a chaste kiss to her chapped lips.

He was afraid he had misread the situation when she didn't respond for a long moment, but then he felt tears on her cheeks and her arms tightened even more before she deepened the kiss. Daryl's heart pounded in his ears as he got lost in the feeling of finally breaking through the awkward barrier that he had kept up since childhood. It could have been minutes or hours later that they finally pulled apart for breath and just stood silently, letting their foreheads rest together comfortably.

Daryl was the one to finally break the silence. "I shouldda done that months ago."

She huffed out an amused breath. "Yes, you should have."

"What do we do now?" The hunter gave in to the question that occurred to him as soon as he spotted the older woman.

Carol shifted in his arms so she could lay her head on his shoulder and sighed against his neck. "I don't know. I can't go back, but I couldn't leave either."

He let his hands wander over her back and arms, finally answering his own longstanding curiosity regarding the way she would feel against him. It turned out she fit perfectly, like she was made for him as the hollow place in his chest seemed to heal. If someone had told him years ago that he would meet someone so suited to him, he would have told them they were crazy, but here he was, eyeing the nest of blankets she had made herself.

As if she had read his mind, Carol pulled away slightly. "Will you stay tonight? It's hard to sleep alone in the dark."

"Of course."

He too knew how sounds were warped in the dark when there was no one else around alive. Daryl hadn't slept well since moving into solitary, but it was either that or risk Vickie trying to crawl into bed with him. But once they settled together in the pile of blankets and rearranged themselves so their limbs were wrapped together, he felt settled, like he was exactly where he needed to be. It didn't matter that she wasn't welcome in the prison as long as he could have her in his arms. They could deal with the rest later.

* * *

Unfortunately, they didn't have a later. Daryl had left the warren of dark hallways to keep up appearances with the rest of the group and Carol was left to her own devices. She explored further towards the back of the prison, slipping unnoticed around walkers until an explosion rocked the world around her. Before she could scurry topside, a flurry of lights and shouts at the exposed rear of the prison caught her attention. As the flashlights passed her by where she hid under a dead walker, Carol caught sight of the last person she ever wanted to see again. The Governor.

He infiltrated the prison with a handful of armed men while the rest were distracted by whatever was causing the explosions overhead, unaware that they were observed. Carol waited until the men had passed, her mind whirling, trying to think of a plan. She knew full well what the insane man intended to do and she couldn't let that happen, not when she had finally gotten closer to Daryl and everyone was distracted. The grey haired woman used her knife to gut the walker she had hidden under, rubbing its guts all over her face and body as a disguise. Living walkers were following the noise into the prison and she staggered along with them.

The invaders stopped near the inhabited portion of the prison to coordinate their attack on the unsuspecting young and infirm. That was where Carol caught up with them, using the walker's herd nature to lead the pack straight to the Governor. She ambushed the men with the walkers, gliding between their grasping hands as guns fired around her and men cried out in alarm. Finally she managed to get behind the Governor, twisting one of his arms up behind him as Daryl had taught her and kicking the backs of his knees so he went down, her knife at his throat.

Carol wanted to say something poignant, like in the movies where the good guy comes back from insurmountable odds and says something witty just as he wins the day, but she was too full of the anger and hatred she had carried since first learning of his existence to form words. Instead, she just tilted her knife into the fleshy softness of his throat and pulled on his hair, sending a spray of blood across the walkers still eating the Governor's compatriots. It was surprisingly easy to separate his head from his shoulders even with the small knife and when his body convulsed to the floor, the walkers did what they did best, consuming anything they could reach.

She slipped away, through the prison, making sure the tombs were closed off to keep walkers out of the inhabited blocks. Ignoring the people running madly about, she felt the air go still, no longer shattered by what she soon learned was tank artillery. Carol walked straight down the hill to the gate, mindless to the occasional bullet whizzing across the battleground until she stood between the two factions, the Governor's head held high in her bloody hand. Both sides stilled, surprised by the woman walking straight into the kill zone, until dawning realization came over them that the Governor was gone.

The bloody woman felt movement at her back and was validated to see Daryl come to her side, rifle held ready and soon others joined them, staring down the invaders until they lowered their weapons and raised their hands. Tyrese and some of the more capable former Woodbury residents rushed forward to gather the weapons and take prisoners until the whole situation could be sorted out. Rick just gaped at the destruction and wreckage until he finally turned to Carol, slowly recognizing her through the ichor covering her body. She stared the taller man down, completely uncertain what she wanted to say to him, but in the end, it didn't matter what she had to say. There was only one thing that mattered.

"It's done." She thrust the severed head of the Governor into Rick's arms and turned back towards the prison.

After the Governor's newest group was stripped of their weapons and interviewed, most of them chose to join the prison crew when they realized they had been mislead. Rick stepped down from leadership again when Carol said her piece about how Karen and David had begged her to end their suffering in a bid to end the virus before it infected others. The counsel, minus Daryl and Rick, unanimously decided to welcome Carol back, especially considering her quick action in the tombs had likely saved everyone's lives. Even Tyrese had grudgingly forgiven the grey haired woman.

Daryl stood stoically by her side through the trial, clearly declaring his support and intention to follow the older woman should she be banished again. Once everything was settled, and repairs began on the fences and prison, Carol disappeared back into the tombs. The hunter found her sitting on the bunk in solitary, holding one of his bolts, letting the fletching slip between her fingers without really seeing it. She didn't move as he set the crossbow aside and knelt between her knees, letting his hands capture hers.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, but Carol finally broke the silence. "I don't think I can stay here."

He nodded in understanding, she wasn't the same person she had been, didn't fit in the role she had been placed in at the prison. "Then we'll go."

Carol finally met his blue eyes with grey ones. "But they need you here."

Shrugging, he pulled the bolt out of her hands and set it aside. "That soldier chick should be able to take up my slack."

They lapsed back into quiet, never having needed many words between them as he rubbed soothing circles over her knuckles. She knew it didn't really matter where they were, or where they went, the woman just needed to get away from everyone for a while and she knew Daryl would be at her side. Tomorrow would be early enough.

* * *

Author's Note: Well, that's it. Don't worry though, I have plenty more Caryl on the way. Some sweet, some sad, some sexy. Stay tuned!


End file.
